


Devil in Public. Angel in Private.

by you_a_southpaw_doll_45



Category: Negan - Fandom, The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Devil in Public. Angel in Private., F/M, JDM, JDM Fluff, Jeffrey Dean Morgan - Freeform, Jeffrey Dean Morgan Fluff, Negan - Freeform, Negan Fluff, Negan One-Shot, One-Shot, Requested, anon request, the walking dead - Freeform, twd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 21:02:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16899792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/you_a_southpaw_doll_45/pseuds/you_a_southpaw_doll_45
Summary: After encountering a group who refuses to comply with you and Negan, y’all do what y’all do best to drive your point across – Negan is the Boss Man, with you as his Queen, and everyone does as he says, otherwise, there will be hell to pay. Neither of y’all tolerate shit from anyone that doesn’t abide, and to be honest, neither of y’all are afraid to put the other in their place. Everyone fears the both of y’all, but what they don’t know is that it’s all a show. To save face, and keep up the public image, y’all have to be brutal to everyone, even each other. However, the moment y’all are alone with each other, the façade drops. You know that Negan is really just a sweetheart, and he knows that you’re an angel.





	Devil in Public. Angel in Private.

**Author's Note:**

> Warning(s): Violence. Explicit language. Slight angst. Fluff.
> 
> Author’s Note(s): So, this comes from a request I had on Tumblr. The request was: “If you take requests can you please write a fic where the reader and Negan are ruthless and they’re terrible to everyone and even a little mean to each other but behind closed doors they’re super soft and loving to each other and Negan is super gentle to her and she’s very sweet to him.”

****“I’d fuckin’ suggest that you fuckin’ do as you’re fuckin’ told! Right fuckin’ now!” You demand, tightening your grip on your weapon of choice.

That weapon happens to be a maple wood Old Hickory baseball bat that you’ve had since you were knee-high to a grasshopper and your older brother gave it to you as a birthday present when you were six. Over the past couple of years, since the outbreak occurred, you’ve made some changes to the old wooden bat. On one side, you carved out small holes that would inflict more pain on the unlucky victim who was met with that side. On the other, you’ve rigged some rusty barbed wire in a criss-cross way, keeping it secure with some old screws that you’d screwed in. 

On the top part of the bat, you had drilled a hole into it. In that hole, you shoved the blade of a knife into it, and secured it so that it wouldn’t come out easily. You look at the man, cowering in front of you. You can tell based on the slight trembling of his body that’s fuckin’ terrified. You give him an eerie smirk, which has him trembling even more. You bring the bat up into a batter’s position, getting ready to swing. When he doesn’t acknowledge your demand, you bring the bat down against his left leg. You make sure that the side with the holes connects with his lower leg, just below his knee. 

His leg immediately gives out, and he crumples to the ground. Each time he refuses to acknowledge the demand, you bring the bat down against another limb. Before too long, you’re starting to run outta limbs to shatter. Now that he’s laying on the ground in front of you, you place the end of your bat against his chest, slightly digging the blade into his skin. Dragging the bat down from his collarbone down to his navel, you let the attached blade slice open his shirt, and also his skin in the process. He lets out a whimper, but you don’t let it stop you from your actions.

You give him one more chance to comply with the simple task you’d asked of him that he still had yet to do. He refuses, so you proceed to beat the shit outta him with the barbed wire side of your baseball bat. When his body is nothing more than a pile of mush, you look up. Negan just stands there, looking at you with an eerily similar smirk, to yours, on his face, but there’s a look of pride in his eyes.

“Well, ho-ly sh-it!” He claims, drawing each word out. “Doll, you are fuckin’ brutal!”

You just smirk and shrug. “He wouldn’t do what I asked.”

He leans back, swinging Lucille up from his side to rest on his shoulder, and letting a deep chuckle out. He turns so he can address the other members of the group in front of us.

“Y’all gonna do what’s asked of y’all now?” He asks.

No one answers him, so he clicks his tongue against his teeth. He lets out a sigh, and glances at you.

“Can you believe this fuckin’ rude ass shit?” He asks. “I guess you didn’t do a good ‘nough fuckin’ job gettin’ your point across there, doll. I’m fuckin’ disappointed.”

Even though you know it’s just for show, and he doesn’t really mean what he’s saying, the words still cut through you, much like your blade did to the dead man on the ground.

You glare at Negan. “You think you can fuckin’ do better, asshole?”

“Watch how you’re speakin’ to me, doll.” He hisses. “And, I fuckin’ know I can fuckin’ do better.”

“I’d like to fuckin’ see you fuckin’ try.”

He glares right back at you. “Alright.”

He turns back to the people, kneeling on the ground, trembling in fear. Negan swings Lucille ‘round, and pretends to bash in one of the men’s skulls. The man flinches, which you know pisses Negan off even more. One of the men shifts slightly and you notice that he’s reaching behind him. It doesn’t take you long before you realize that he’s reaching for a weapon. You raise your bat, and bring it down on his arm so that the blade slices through his limb. He lets out a yell, and you feel a tight grip on your upper arm before you’re jerked back.

“What the fuck do you think you’re fuckin’ doin’, doll?” Negan hisses at you.

You glare at him. “He was fuckin’ reachin’ for a damn weapon.”

His eyebrow raises. “Is that fuckin’ so?”

You nod. “Of course it fuckin’ is. Now fuckin’ let go of my damn arm. You’re fuckin’ hurtin’ me, asshole.”

Negan turns back to the man whose arm you just sliced off. His grip on your arm doesn’t disappear, but it does loosen. You know that he’d never intentionally hurt you, no matter what kind of image y’all have to keep up. Simon has the man who attempted to draw a weapon at gunpoint. Negan crouches down in front of the man, pulling you down with him.

“You really thought you could fuckin’ get away with that shit?” He asks.

The man doesn’t say anything, but glares at the bat-wielding man. Negan grasps the man’s jaw in his leather-covered hand.

“Now, you see, that shit ain’t gonna fuckin’ fly with me. Thankfully, doll over here shut that shit down.” Negan hisses. “But, you’re still gonna have to fuckin’ pay!”

He lets go of the man’s face, and stands up. He tugs you up so that you’re standing beside him.

“Go stand the fuck over there.” He instructs of you.

You abide, but only if it gets you away from him for a minute. He proceeds to beat the man senseless with Lucille, effectively driving home his point that people just don’t fuck with Negan and his men.

 

* * *

“Leave me the fuck alone, Negan!” You holler as he comes up behind you once you get outta the truck back at the Sanctuary.

You turn away from him and head up to y’all’s shared room. As soon as you’re there, you slam the door, kick your boots off, strip, and grab some clean clothes before heading to the shower. You close your eyes and lean your head against the wall while the water rains down over you, pelting your skin. You sigh as you hear the bathroom door open.

“Sweetheart?” Negan asks, softly.

You don’t say anything, but hear the shower curtain being pulled back. Negan lets out a quiet sigh as he steps into the shower, standing behind you. He wraps his arms ‘round you, turning you ‘round so that you’re facing him. He brings his left hand up and cups your cheek, rubbing his thumb just under your eye. He lowers his head and gently brushes his lips across your forehead.

“I’m sorry.” He murmurs, quietly apologizing.

You don’t say anything. He sighs again, and lovingly tightens his arm ‘round you, holding you close to him. His moves his left hand so that he can tangle his fingers in your hair. You let your head rest against his chest. The two of you just stand there, under the shower, with him holding you close. After a few minutes, you wrap your arms ‘round his waist, and he lets out a deep breath.

“I’m so fuckin’ sorry, sweetheart.” He apologizes again.

You still don’t say anything. Instead, you just tighten your arms ‘round him. Eventually, Negan pulls away and starts to wash your body. His movements are slow, sweet, and full of love. After he’s satisfied that you’re completely cleaned, he quickly washes himself. When he’s done, he turns the water off, steps out, grabs the fluffiest towel on the rack, and turns back to you. He wraps the towel ‘round you and scoops you up in his arms. Carrying from the bathroom, and back into the bedroom, he lays you down on the bed. 

Crawling in next to you, he slowly reaches for you, waiting for your permission. You give him a slow nod and he immediately wraps his arms ‘round you. You snuggle up to him as much as humanly possible. He shifts so that he’s laying on his back, with your head on his chest.

“I went too far today, didn’t I.” He states, not even really asking.

You just nod your head. You know that while y’all have to keep up appearances in public, sometimes he goes too far. You’ve gone too far a time or two, as well, so you’re not completely innocent. But, he seems to go too far more often than you do. Most days, that he does, always ends up with the two of y’all cuddling, you not saying much, and him profusely apologizing. You always forgive him ‘cause how can you not? You love the shit outta him. Yes, he can be an asshole and take things too far, but so can you. Plus, in all honesty, he’s the only you trust and feel safe ‘round.

He might be the leader of the Saviors, but he’s your Savior. You hear him let out a sigh as his fingers trace random shapes against the skin of your upper right arm.

“I’m really fuckin’ sorry, sweetheart.” He murmurs. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. You know I’d never do that. Hurting you is like slowly killing myself.”

You nod. You know he’d never intentionally hurt you. No matter how far over the top he goes. You finally lift your head up to look at him. His chocolate brown eyes that normally twinkle with amusement are now dim and murky. You can tell he’s fighting with himself right now and feeling far more guilty than he ever has.  He looks at you worriedly when you shift away from him. His hands still reach out towards, trying to keep you close.

“Darlin’?” He asks, moving into a sitting position; his back against the headboard and his long lanky legs stretched out in front of him.

You don’t answer him verbally, but your actions say more than words ever could. You straddle his waist, sitting back on his thigh. His palms rest on the mattress, but you can tell by the slight twitching of ‘em that he wants to touch you. 

But, he doesn’t. 

You haven’t given him permission to do so. See, the thing ‘bout Negan is this: he won’t touch you without your explicit permission. He wants it to be something that you want just as much as he does. And, that makes you love him even more. He’s always respected your boundaries when it’s just the two of you. In public, it’s a bit different, but he still tries without giving too much away. You let one hand hover over his chest, the tiny little hairs tickling your palm, as you lean forward slightly. His lips part as he lets out a shaky breath.

You finally utter three words for the first time since y’all got back.

“Kiss me. Please.”

He doesn’t waste any time as he leans towards you, and gently brushes his lips against yours. Eyes drifting shut, lips meshing with lips, breaths mingling. He kisses you. During the kiss, you let your hand rest on his chest, and you can feel his heart beating rapidly. With your other hand, you reach out and gently take hold of his hand on the bed. Bringing it to rest on your hip, you give him the permission he’s so desperately craved. The kiss gets deeper as his other hand comes up to your other hip. He pulls you against him as his tongue darts out and against your lips, seeking its own permission.

Of course, you grant it, and before you can breathe in, his tongue is dancing with yours. Eventually, he pulls back, letting his forehead rest against yours, breathing heavily. You open your eyes slightly and notice that his are still screwed shut. You feel his brow furrow against yours. You reach up and cup his cheek with your free hand, running your thumb along his cheek, just under his eye. He just nuzzles his face against your palm, relishing in your touch. His fingers tighten on your hips, but not ‘nough to cause you pain. 

Rather, it’s more of a comforting gesture. 

For the both of you. For you, it’s to let you know that he’s got you. No matter what. He’s always got you. For him, it’s so he can make sure you’re still here, with him, that he hasn’t lost you yet. 

You know he’s scared to lose you. In any way whatsoever. 

He’s terrified at the thought of losing you.

He doesn’t show it in public, but when it’s just you two, he can’t hide it as well. You know you mean the world to him. Just like he means the world to you. Even if he hasn’t ever said those three little words. He doesn’t have to. You know he loves you. He shows it in other ways. Whether it be in certain things he does. Like getting you your favorite items when he can, curling up next to you and holding you close, or even when he sneaks up behind you while you’re making dinner to place his hands on your hips and tuck his nose against the side of your neck.

Or, the little things he’ll say. Like, when he tells you he’ll be home later and that he wants to cuddle. Or making the comment of “Be safe, make good choices, and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, which is a short list” while letting out an adorable chuckle. These are the reasons you know he loves you. He doesn’t have to say those three little words. His breathing starts to even out. He finally pulls away, leaning against the headboard once more. You keep your palm against his scruffy cheek, and he even brings his hand up and places it over yours. 

His fingers curl over your hand, and his thumb glides across the top of your wrist. Lifting his eyes to yours, you can tell that his internal battle has calmed slightly. He takes a deep breath in.

“Sweetheart…I…” He starts.

“Shhh. It’s ok. You don’t have to apologize anymore.” You whisper.

He shakes his head. “I know…but…there is somethin’ I gotta tell you.”

You furrow your brow. “Ok?”

He takes another deep breath. “I…I love you.”


End file.
